Shots
by TaylorGibbs
Summary: Gibbs remembers the day his life changed, and begins healing. Written for the au100 community. the prompt is healing


Prompt #80 Healing

Prompt #80 Healing

September 11th was a date that lived in infamy for a lot of people, much like the anniversaries of Hiroshima or the Pearl Harbor attacks. For him, October 1, 2007 had the same significance.

He lined up shot glasses on his kitchen counter. Taking a bottle of bourbon, he topped up eight glasses, two each for McGee, Palmer, Ziva, Jen. He took a bottle of high end Scotch and filled two lone shot glasses to the brim. Ducky wouldn't drink bourbon if you paid him. The final glasses were CafPow, for Abby.

Satisfied that this part of his ritual was in order, he paced by the door, waiting. These rituals and remembrances were was all he had left of his time at NCIS, the agency dissolving after the bombing that had destroyed the Navy Yard headquarters. It was hard to believe it had been two years ago already.

Natural gas leak had been the cause in the official report. Coincidental how they'd just brought in two terrorists and were working them over before sending 'em to GITMO. They'd done it somehow, he knew it, remembered the smug smirks on their faces just before he left to get coffee, their sardonic goodbyes that had rung as very final.

If only he hadn't left to get coffee…everything would have been so different.

"Jethro?"

He looked up, a brief smile on his face. It had been so hard in the aftermath, he'd driven everyone away but he was finally ready to deal with this.

"Kitchen." He motioned his head, leading the sad parade, motioning to the shot glasses. "Got enough for everyone."

"Good." Another hand, slight scars tracing over the knuckles, reached past him. They'd fought so hard to save so few. "McGee first?"

Gibbs nodded, taking a glass of bourbon, flinching at first when the set of arms came tightly around him, and then relaxing.

"Probie, you were brilliant. Boss and I never knew what to make of you, steel under softness. We lost you too soon." He lifted his glass. "To Timothy McGee, Probie, Elf Lord, Thom E Gemcity, you were a hell of an agent and a hell of a man."

"To Tim," Gibbs echoed.

They alternated through Palmer, Ziva, and Jen, knowing the two hardest were to come. And they'd been the ones who had hung on the longest, the only two of their team who had been brought out alive, the only two they'd gotten to say goodbye to. Ducky'd never regained consciousness but they'd had three hours with Abby. Her last words, signed in a shaking hand, had been for him to admit his feelings for Tony. And two years later he still hadn't.

While Gibbs had retired, DiNozzo moved to the FBI after he'd been treated for the injuries he'd sustained trying to rescue their friends and colleagues and Fornell had nothing but praise for him. They hadn't seen much of each other since the explosion…it had been too damn hard, they'd both carried around far too many pains. Tony had tried, but Gibbs had thrown up walls, even going back to Mexico for a couple of months.

Yet DC, the house he'd made with Shannon, the yard Kelly had played in, had called him back. It didn't matter that DINozzo was here too. At least that was what he told himself.

But when it mattered, Tony was here, and he'd let the other man in. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years. This painful anniversary. There were few people—and even fewer men—that Jethro Gibbs would let touch him and chief among them was Tony.

He tilted his head up, looking at the other man, all sleepy eyes, a faint hint of sticky soda clinging to his upper lip. With Tony, Gibbs didn't have to pretend or be strong—he could just exist.

He felt the walls inside crumbling as he slowly stepped back. "We're halfway to drunk so it's okay if you don't remember tomorrow but…stay with me, just for tonight?"

Tony's eyes lit up in hope, the grim lines fading as he gave a very childlike smile. "Just for tonight? Was kinda hoping I'd be a permanent fixture around here, Gibbs."

It was perfectly natural to brush his hand over Tony's face. "Tonight is a damn good start, isn't it?"

The soft footfalls behind him as he climbed the stairs told their own tale. For tonight—and maybe much longer—they were going to heal themselves and each other. Together.


End file.
